


national rock day

by watchtheleaves



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: M/M, Non-Binary Albert DaSilva, One-Sided Attraction, The Office AU, a couple of bestiesss, female crutchie morris, for mars and mars only, he deserves it, jk it’s just for now, les gets pranked, sorry race you get the endless pining this time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:13:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24417184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watchtheleaves/pseuds/watchtheleaves
Summary: race hates his job in many levels, so he tries to find joy in the little things.
Relationships: Albert DaSilva/Racetrack Higgins
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	national rock day

**Author's Note:**

> PART 1 OF THE RALBERT THE OFFICE AU I’M SO !!
> 
> i’ve been wanting to write this for a few days and it just wouldn’t leave my mind so i’ll be writing little jim & pam moments for these two and adding to the series.
> 
> no trigger warnings, enjoy!

There were one or two things Race could name off the top of his head that made American Textiles an unbearable workplace.

It wasn’t that he hated fabrics—that was a rather unreasonable thing to hate, and even though working where he worked had made buying new clothes a particularly annoying part of his life, what he sold wasn’t as paining as where and how.

Race knew—had always known—that an office job wasn’t his thing. It hadn’t been when he started as an intern and it didn’t became any more pleasing when he got his first official paycheck as a textile distributor salesman. It was a little bit depressing, too.

He didn’t like to think about wasted potential. It really was easier to live in oblivion of it all.

Maybe, the only truly good thing about American Textiles was Albert. And Race caught himself thinking about that very often.

Albert DaSilva was and had been for as long as Race could remember the receptionist and secretary at the New York branch of American Textiles. They were the funniest person Race knew and they weren’t happy with their job either—no one would be, having to work for Jack Kelly so directly—so they had bonded over exactly that: despising their lives as subordinates and pranking their coworkers to get through the day.

It worked. They laughed at the same things, they knew each other like best friends do.

In fact, to Race, falling in love with Albert was only a minor side effect. A bump in the road, a distraction. Or so it had been when he first saw them. Now, three years later, he had to rethink his strategy. Especially when the person in question was engaged.

A rock landed on his desk.

“What—“ He looked up. Albert, at their desk, perked an eyebrow and shrugged.

Needless to be prompted, Jack Kelly popped up into his field of vision a second later. Race didn’t know how bad it would be until he saw the look on his face.

“It’s rock day,” the man said, holding back a laugh.

He tried too hard. That was one of the two things everyone who worked for Jack Kelly knew. The other one was that he had the sense of humor of a five-year-old.

“It’s been a year?” Asked Race, contemplating the rock that rested on his desk.

January 7th was Rock Day. No one knew or cared, but Jack did. He had a fascination for fun holidays that Race couldn’t get around.

“Yes it has, Tony-Tones,” he said, clapping. No one seemed to pay him much attention until he cleared his throat. “Attention, everyone. No one has come into my office to wish me a happy rock day, but I wish it to you all. Even if you’re inconsiderate to your boss,” he stated before laughing at his own so-called joke.

Race took a long breath in and out. He looked at Albert, who was looking back, and shrugged in resignation.

Next to him, someone stood up like a lighting bolt. And there it was—the missing part of their morning routine.

“Happy rock day, Jack,” exclaimed American Textiles’ most recent acquisition of an intern, Lester Jacobs. He was sixteen years old and already both as tall and more talented at shoving fabric down people’s throats than Race had ever been in his whole career.

He rolled his eyes and caught Albert laughing at him quietly.

“Thank you, Les,” nodded the man before turning in his heels and heading back into his office.

It was ten thirty in the morning, which meant only one thing. Race could either do something or start to go crazy slowly and painfully. He saw his boss walk away as Les took a seat in the desk next to his and immediately turned to Albert with plead in his eyes.

Albert nodded.

“I’m going insane,” he said, shutting the kitchen door behind him as Albert sat on the counter, shook their and laughed.

“This is the earliest you’ve cracked,” they said. “But he deserves it, so I support you.”

“Thanks for your approval,” he mocked. Albert stuck their tongue out. “Problem is, I’m out of ideas.”

A gasp. “The Antonio Higgins doesn’t have any pranks left?”

Race bit his lip not to smile. He feigned annoyance. “Dry as a bone. Help,” he begged.

Albert thought for a second, humming with their lips pursed. Their legs bounced slightly against the wooden counter cabinets. After a minute, they shrugged again. They did it quite often, Race noted.

“How mean do you want it to be?”

“It’s not mean, just—“

“Tony,” Albert looked at them.

Race lifted his hands. “Alright, um—Just regular dose of mean-ness.”

A beat. “First, that’s not a word, and second...”

They smiled. Race smiled back.

Les deserved it, for the most part. He was well aware of his status as a prodigy salesman and at the naive age of sixteen he had decided that it was worth being smug about. He was proud of himself and his severely underpaid job, as much as he was a suck-up to Jack, to Corporate, and to anyone but Race. The hatred was mutual. So Les deserved most of what he got, and what he didn’t deserve, Race knew he’d find a way to earn sooner or later.

The way down to the warehouse was one that Race knew well from his many times escaping his responsibilities. Or Jack.

“Hey, babe,” Albert smiled as they curled both arms around the neck of their fiancé. Race didn’t know where to look while they kissed.

Oscar Delancey was both Albert’s soon-to-be husband and the head of the warehouse. He was a nice man. He was funny, or so Albert mentioned every now and then. To Race, Oscar was… tall. He was one tall man.

“What’re you doing down here?” Asked Oscar once the kiss was broken.

“We need tools,” Albert said. Race nodded, standing at a safe distance. “Vending machine tools.”

“What?”

Albert smiled an innocent smile. “We just want to study our vending machine—“

“See how it works—“ Added Race.

“Yeah, exactly,” Albert nodded. “So, can we borrow some of those?”

Oscar squinted, looking between Albert and Race, and nodded cautiously. “Sure.”

At that, Albert grinned and kissed their fiancé’s cheek before untangling themself from him. Oscar was turning towards his toolbox when he spoke again, over his shoulder.

He didn’t have the smartest mouth.

“Be careful, though. Not marrying a jobless person.”

Albert faltered slightly. Race caught them quickly pulling themself up and shrugging in a dismissive way, taking the toolbox and glancing at him before turning to make their way back.

“Doesn’t seem like you’re marrying me, anyway,” they said when they were out of earshot.

Race knew better than to bring it up, after years. And it really had been years—he was barely finishing his first year as a salesman when Oscar proposed to Albert as they were making their way out and into their cars. He’d been there to see the whole thing.

Two years had passed.

It wasn’t worth any mention, because Race knew it was out of line to offer support about something he didn’t know anything about. Besides, Albert was very good at pretending to be fine.

They could either dwell on the uncomfortable silence that had fell upon them or laugh it off.

“This is one of your best ideas,” Race said.

“Well,” Albert said, carefully working themself around the screws of the vending machine in the break room. “We’ll have to wait and see. But, yeah, I’m a genius.”

Race had an arm inside the machine when someone walked in. Albert stood up just too fast to play it cool.

Charlie Morris frowned at the sight.

“What’s going on?” She asked. Albert shrugged, waving their arms around mindlessly.

“Nothing—much,” they said. Race removed himself from the insides of the vending machine and nodded.

“Monthly inspection,” he said casually.

“Isn’t a guy supposed to come in and do that?”

Race crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m a guy,” he defended. Charlie perked an eyebrow.

“Okay,” she said, turning around and walking away slowly.

Only when she was completely out of the room did they both exhale at unison. Albert ran a hand through their hair and Race laughed.

“She almost caught us,” he said.

Albert waved him off, handing him the last crucial piece of their procedure. “It’s Charlie. What’s she gonna do? Tell Jack? Tell Les?”

“Well,” Race said. “Yeah.”

He slid away from the machine and up to Albert’s side. They looked at their done masterpiece and then at each other, spark of pride in their eyes. Then, exactly ten minutes before their lunch break, they went back to work.

Les came back from a sale to find his desk deserted. He then followed the sound of Charlie Morris’ laughter into the break room, where she was shaking her head at the view.

The boy had the option to come out fuming or pouting. It was funnier when he did both.

“Jack,” he cried out as he walked out of the room and into the manager’s office. “They put my stuff in the vending machine!”

“What?”

“My things. They’re  _ inside _ the vending machine.”

“That’s hilarious.”

Les turned to Race. “How am I gonna get them back?”

He looked at him and shrugged. “You gotta pay, little one.”

As he scrambled for his wallet in frustration and stormed off, Race and Albert looked at each other from their desks and motioned a high-five.

It was a good day.

**Author's Note:**

> i Promise this is as platonic as it’s gonna get. i don’t know if jack was too out of character but i tried finding balance between michael and him soooo yeah!
> 
> thank you so much for reading and please know comments are Much appreciated. i’m also on twitter as @newsieslive and tumblr as @whizzcrwins!!
> 
> drink water and stay home <3


End file.
